


To Find Along the Road

by moonlightskies (blossomclouds)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - The Witcher Fusion, F/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22991395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blossomclouds/pseuds/moonlightskies
Summary: Ashara Dayne, the sorceress assigned to the Red Keep, saves Brandon Stark from the king. After, she sticks around.Even when it puts her mission at stake. Even through the rumbles of Rebellion.or; I add yet another magic system to the world of ASoIaF in the form of a Witcher and a Sorceress who go out adventuring and maybe save a person, hopefully.
Relationships: Ashara Dayne/Brandon Stark
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	To Find Along the Road

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for my friend [beth](https://jonconningtons.tumblr.com/) whose birthday it is today and who's the only person i know who truly loves ashara/brandon as a ship.
> 
> she also loves the witcher.
> 
> so beth, have this ashara/brandon thing loosely inspired by geralt/yennefer.

The Sorceress of the Red Keep had spent her training in the hopes of never having to take herself up against the fire.

Yet, here she was.

Witcher’s cries sounded next to her as the wildfire raged. The  Princess was safely back in  Maegor’s Holdfast and for that she was grateful. There was no happy end to this chapter of the story.

Ashara’s hair billowed in the wind, the only part of her that still felt light with all her muscles straining. Her hands felt raw as if she was burning right there with the Lord of Winterfell, and her head throbbed as if she was chained up next to his son. The magic built up like a storm inside of her, but it was nothing against the deathly green flames licking upwards and upwards.

She wouldn’t be able to save him. She wouldn’t be able to save him and escape the guards charging at them and save the Witcher at the same time. Power pulsed and poured out of her and her grasp on it grew thinner by the second.

There was only one thing to do.

Against the king’s mad laugh, Starks screaming and swords clashing,  Ashara dropped her shield. Wild, golden,  _ unnatural  _ eyes looked back at her hands wrapping around the Witcher’s chain. She did her best to ignore him; him and all the other men.

Metal links broke and crumbled under her hands, but she only felt her nerves fray and split, no time for triumph. With a beastly, desperate cry the Witcher lunged toward his father. Summoning the last of her strength,  Ashara put out her arm and threw all her hopes of escape forward.

In the green light of the fire swallowing up the Warden of the North, she followed Brandon Stark through her portal and collapsed on a field of grass.

Heaving, she coughed out the residue of smoke in her lungs and throat. 

Just as she pushed herself up from the ground, rough hands seized her about her shoulders. Brandon lifted her up as if she weighed nothing more than a doll.

_ “Take me back,” _ he spat, hoarse and close to losing control.  _ “You need to take me back. Now." _

“No.” She tried to get out of his grip. “He’s already dead, there is nothing you can do.”

“I can  _ avenge him,”  _ he said. “They took half my  family, I need to go  _ back.” _

Ashara tried to breathe.  Witchers were not meant to explode, she hadn’t even known they  _ could.  _

_ “ _ You are  free to,” she told him. “Who am I to keep you?”

He let her go.

He was unleashed in the way he took in their environment. “Where are we?”

“I can’t tell you with certainty.” She looked down her skirts, ripped at the seams, and bunched them up to follow him marching down the field toward the distant forest. “Somewhere in the Reach, close to  Bitterbridge .”

He spared her a suspicious look. “Why?”

“Portals are no accurate science, but  Bitterbridge was the first place I thought of.”

“ Mh ,” he said. Golden eyes tracked her as she caught up to him. “Thank you. For rescuing me.”

“Of course,” she said. “I live to serve.”

Although whom she had served at this hour and whom she should serve now remained a mystery even to her.

* * *

They reached an inn by nightfall.

“Why not go to  Bitterbridge ?”  Ashara had asked. “Word couldn’t possibly have reached them this fast.”

“No matter, it’s too risky,” Brandon had told her, “and a Witcher is rarely welcome at court.” There had been nothing she could say to contradict him, so she had followed.

After an hour’s silence, he had spoken up again. “Why do you not just portal yourself away from here?”

“I have nowhere else to go.”

“And they’ll come for you,” he had said. “ Portalling would give you away in a heart-beat.”

“That, too.” For the first time in a day she had smiled and felt like herself again. But smiling had reminded her of Elia and all she had left behind on a foolish whim, so it had only lasted a minute. “Do you honestly plan to go back to King’s Landing now?”

He’d only grunted.  Ashara had taken one look to the path behind them, and then hurried to keep up.

The road they had taken had been mercifully empty, only twice did they have to hide between the trees so they wouldn’t be discovered. Still, once she’d spotted the inn, she’d been relieved.

Neither of them had any coin on them, but the  innkeep had  taken a look at Brandon, scrutinized his eyes, and told them she would throw them out if they hadn’t made payment on the morrow.

“There’s a monster,” Brandon told her once they’d closed the door to the small room they would have to share.

Ashara frowned. “Where? How can you tell?”

“They wouldn’t have let us stay if there weren’t,” he said. “Soon enough they’ll be begging for me to kill something or other.”

She averted her eyes. Nothing about him gave her a clue if he resented the bind or enjoyed it. She lowered herself onto the bed that took up most of the room. Her feet were swollen and aching, not used to walks this long.

Brandon knew it, with the same sense a Witcher knew everything. “Perhaps it would be best if we found a hiding place for you stay. You’re not used to travel like this.”

“No, I’m not leaving your side.” She stretched her toes and almost groaned from pain. “Who knows what comes next. Aside from being hunted, the kingdom is about to fall into turmoil.”

“Good.”

She looked at him, the grimness lining his face. “War is never good.”

“Neither is the king,” he  said. In the dim light, he pulled out the longsword he’d picked up off the floor of the throne room.

Ashara shielded her eyes from the light reflecting off it. “I’m not leaving your side.”

“Very well.” He draws a finger along the edge of the blade. “Then I propose you get some sleep, my lady.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I was expecting you to argue. Or seduce me into staying behind.”

“I don’t make a habit of seducing young sorceresses into obedience,” he said. He didn’t quite smile and didn’t quite scoff.

“Apologies,” she said. A broken smile washed over her face. “You were sincerely charming at the tourney of  Harrenhal .”

He stopped handling the sword to look up and smirk. “So were you.”

“You remember me from those days?” she asked. She herself remembered barely anything about herself. Only dancing, laughter, flower crowns, and a stoic Elia in her carriage back, a pale imitation of the cheerful mood she’d been in only three days prior.

“Yours is a hard face to forget, my lady.”

Her smile turned real. “You’re too kind.”

“Kind isn’t a word usually associated with  Witchers . I only tell you what I know to be true.”

_ Still charming,  _ she thought.  _ Still charming and handsome and so very northern. _ “I’m not leaving,” she repeated. “I trust I can rely on your honor to compel you not to abandon me to this place?”

“I won’t, my lady.”

He waited until she nestled herself against the wall and lodged the sword in place at his hip.  Ashara watched him loom in the doorway, looking down at her. She felt curiously safe even under those eyes.

“Rest,” he said, and for a Witcher it came close to something gentle.

* * *

Breakfast was a dull affair after the comforts of the Red Keep, but  Ashara relished every bite.

Brandon had pressed three silver into the  innkeep’s hand before they’d sat. She’d smiled at the smallfolk scattered about and ducked her head. Without an entourage and only a heartbroken Witcher at her back she felt exposed and weak. 

She’d slept by the time Brandon had returned last night. The rustling of the sheets had roused her into half- wakefulness and she’d gone stiff and quiet, but he had settled with a good inch between them. He’d smelled of dirt and monster.

The magic had been restless within her, but exhaustion had gifted her with a deep sleep. She’d woken with Brandon solid and still distant at her back.

“You’ll need more fitting clothes,” he told her now. “The journey will not get easier.”

“I know,” she said, wondering if she knew anything at all. “Did you earn enough to acquire some?”

“Some fit for common folk,” he said. There was an odd note to the way he said  _ common.  _ As if he did not count her among them, but himself as something in-between.

“Perhaps that would be for the best,” she said, tearing at her bread.

Brandon pointed at her with his butter knife. “The king’s men may catch up before we can reach King’s Landing.”

Around them the chatter was low, but he could likely make out every word. She wished for the same skill in that moment. Without entourage or leave to use her magic as she wished she was only a frightened little girl. “Why go to King’s Landing at all? There is nothing there for you.”

Most like it was only the light, but it seemed as if Brandon’s eyes grew darker. He looked predatory. Not at all the desperate man she had freed. A Witcher. A wolf. “There is something for you. Or do you not care for your Princess at all, my lady? Word has it that you and  her were quite close.”

“Do not presume to speak to me of what I have left  behind,” she commanded in her best attempt not to break out in tears. “I trust Princess Elia to keep herself safe and in her hour of need, I will be there. All you desire is blood for blood.”

He didn’t deny it. “It’s the only way.”

“Vengeance is a fool’s game,” she said. “My brother always told me that.”

“Your brother is protecting a king that is slaughtering his people,” he replied. There were ghosts in his eyes.

“If he weren’t, you would be scorning him for breaking his oaths.”

He ducked his head with an indulgent smile and spared her an answer. When he looked back up he’d regained his composure. “You changed since I last saw you.”

“Yes,” she said. “As have you.”

Brandon hummed. “I’m not out for vengeance, my lady. Dragons have torn my family apart and there is only one thing I can do about it. There is only one thing I’m good at after all.”

She furrowed her brow. He sounded so unlike Arthur who’d always made her believe in the versatility of his position.  _ You get to choose,  _ he liked to say.  _ You get to choose your methods and your goals.  _ “Your father is surely dead, but your sister may still be alive,” she said. “You could chase her instead.”

“Do you know, you remind me of her now.” His fork scraped over his plate with an ugly sound, but his words were clear over the noises of the inn. “A quiet grace and only wild when roused. Of course, you aren’t the same. She has the steel of winter and yours is the beauty of summer.” He waved a hand. “But no matter.”

“If she is as brave as you say, there is a good chance we might find her.” She leaned forward on her elbows. “Vengeance is a fool’s game, but not all of your family is lost to you, yet.”

* * *

They found her a few pieces of clothing and slayed another monster for two horses. She came with him that time, insistent since he still only had that longsword – that taunt from the king – hanging from his hip and none of his Witcher potions.

“Princess Elia would quite love to see this,” she said, panting, after Brandon had driven his sword through the monster’s heart.

He looked at her skeptically. “Is she not a timid creature?”

“Timid, maybe, but clever and with an affection for magic.”  Ashara laughed as she thought about it. “She wished for power like mine sometimes.”  _ She delighted in the way I made colors dance over my knuckles and how I was able to bend space around like a shawl. There is no one who deserved to be protected by me more. _

“If only she had the same gifts and could have stopped her lord husband from taking my sister,” said Brandon.

Ashara clenched one hand into a fist.  _ I should have stopped him. My brother should have stopped him. But not Elia. All she’s ever done was to be a devoted wife, a good mother. He was the one who threw it all away.  _ She grit her teeth and breathed and moved away from their monster. “He did her a great dishonor.”

“Not only her,” said Brandon. She nodded and he put his sword back in its scabbard to follow her into town.

They received their reward at the only inn around and got a little free ale from the  innkeep . “Drink it here, though,” they were told, so they stayed seated at the bar.

Brandon had almost emptied his cup when they heard it.

“—since Lord Arryn raised his banners.”  Ashara’s eyes snapped up to Brandon. He didn’t appear to have moved, but she knew he was paying close attention.

She took a quick look over her shoulder at the men who were talking. They were a group of four gathered around one of the tables.

“Soon there will be more monsters abound than usual,” said the oldest one. The two youngest ones looked to be about her  age and all wore the same sigil on their doublets.

Ashara slipped off her stool in a fluid motion.

“You must pardon my intrusion,” she said once she reached the table. The men had gone silent and wide-eyed as soon as her approach had been noted. “I’m afraid I have been away for quite some time. Can you tell me, why would the Warden of the East raise his banners against the king?”

The one who’d first mentioned Lord Arryn looked her up and down with greedy eyes. “You’ve been away, I’ll say,” he crooned. “Word is the old lord refused to ship over that Stark boy and his fellow ward, the stag.”

The oldest, though, received her more skeptically. “What’s it to you, girl?”

She smiled. “I’m only curious. I’m heading east and I ought to know what’s expecting me.”

“Do yourself a favor, little lady,” he said, “and head so far east you see the back of Dragonstone. Nothing good will come in these lands for a while.”

“Or you stay right here where we can keep you safe,” leered one of the two who hadn’t spoken up so far.

“I’m afraid I’m sorely needed in the east,” she said, smile thinning.

“Aye, with those big purple eyes of yours,” the leering man agreed. “Those would attract you good business around here.”

“She’s coming with me.” 

Four mouths went mum. Brandon towered warm behind her, and her smile grew wider again.

“I thank you for the information,” she said hastily, as Brandon put a hand to the small of her back. Once they left for their room she turned her smile upwards. “And I thank you for making it unnecessary to portal them to Harrenhal.”

“You’re welcome, my lady.” He opened the door for her.

“The  Arryns raised their banners,” she said, and watched closely for his reaction. He drew a hand through his hair and sighed, a saturated picture of him at the bar.

“Yes,” he said. “We need to find my sister.”

She nodded and tried to keep in her expression of joy. “Alright,” she said. “How?”

“We have some magic between us,” he said. “We’ll find a way.”

* * *

News only ever got worse. Lord Arryn’s own bannerman opposed him and they did not hear of Eddard Stark’s fate for a month.  Gulltown was sacked, so was  Summerhall . They did not find  Lyanna in the Crownlands.

“The Prince wouldn’t dare bring her to the Stormlands,” said Brandon. He looked back at her. “Would he?”

Ashara could not answer.

The Rebellion’s forces joined up further in the North.  Lyanna Stark was not in the Stormlands, not in Dragonstone. 

The day they learned that Eddard Stark had been wed to Catelyn Tully Brandon did not speak for hours on end. The small garrison and the sea monster they encountered that day were struck down with fury.

“I wouldn’t have been allowed to marry her anyway,” he said afterwards, sopping wet and grim. “But Ned deserved to marry for love.” She did not tell him that the odds of that had been low in any case.

They never got separate rooms. The roads were growing meaner and their coin was always short of not enough.  Ashara held a small corner in her heart open for the nights, the light snoring and the heavy body between her and the door. Elia never snored.

“Where would he go?” Brandon asked himself more than her, spreading the map they had bought with their last earnings. “Where would he take her?”

Ashara leaned over from where she was sitting cross-legged against the wall, the blanket drawn over her lap.

“He wouldn’t go north,” he continued. “He didn’t take her to Dragonstone. He’s neither here nor there nor anywhere.”

“Perhaps they went to Dorne.”

He turned toward her. “Would they take them?” he asked. “After what he did to their Princess?”

“I don’t know.” She bunched her hands into the blanket. “It’s where I would go, where Elia would go. It’s where my brother would go.”

He looked back toward the map, toward her, and toward the map. “That’s right.” He put a finger to Starfall. “It  _ is  _ where your brother would go.”

They rode for Dorne the next day.  _ Fewer people, fewer controls, fewer battles,  _ Ashara had said,  _ and more distance. It would be a wise choice _ . She felt her conscience weigh on her, though, with every mile they turned their back on King’s Landing. The few times they had dared to enter a sept she had lit four candles. One for the Mother, one for the Warrior, one for the Maiden, and one for the Smith. Elia, Arthur,  Rhaenys , Aegon.

Yet still she followed Brandon south and south and south.

They were getting close to the mountains, when she worked up the courage to ask, “Do you think your brother would let them live?”

He waited and considered before he answered. “My brother would. Robert would want to.” He looked back at her. “She did nothing wrong, my lady. You would have every right to save her.”

Ashara gripped the reigns tight between her fingers. “I  _ will _ save her. It is what I’m meant for.”

* * *

They were three days into the mountains when Brandon stopped between the trees.

“We’re turning around.”

She made her palfrey turn to look at him. “To where?”

He looked emptied out and tired. In all their time of travel she’d never seen him tired before. “King’s Landing. Once we reach it, either Robert or  Rhaegar will have, too.”

In an instant she had tears in her eyes.  _ The Lady  _ _ Lyanna _ _ has died,  _ was her first thought.  _ Elia died. The war is won. The war is lost. _

She clamped down on her feelings and forced her thoughts to narrow. “Why?”

“I want to save my sister,” he said, with a false calm. “But you  _ need  _ to save our princess.”

“I shall. After we save Lady Stark.”

He shook his head. “She’s lost to me. We are riding for Dorne on nothing but a hope. If there is a chance for me to find  her I shall have it after we save someone. We need to save  _ someone. _ ”

Ashara swallowed all possible answers that came to  mind. Out in the trees, crickets were chirping. “I can’t portal us. My guild would have us surrounded in the blink of an eye. If I went in the heat of  battle I could get away with it, but not like this. They have no bigger worries yet.”

“We’ll ride.” And he smirked. “ Portalling is no exact science, after all.”

“Brandon,” she said. “What changed your mind?”

Golden-eyed and sun-tanned he buried a hand in his horse’s mane.

“My brother is much more restrained than I am. Much more honorable. He’ll make a better lord to Winterfell and the North. Since before they made me what I am today I have known that.” He was looking out at the green surrounding them on all sides. “After we had departed from  Harrenhal after that blasted  tourney he told me. He asked, rather. He asked me, if beyond the women we crown, beyond the honor that’s so easily dented – if there wasn’t a lordly duty behind it all. To put the realm before yourself.”

His jaw clenched around the words. “I laughed at the time, as much amusement in me as there still can be. He resented  Rhaegar for what he’d done that day. Not because he’d intruded where he didn’t belong and not on behalf of  Lyanna , but because the prince, the one who is supposed to be our greatest protector and a just ruler, had been selfish.”

“There are people beside my sister who need us more. How could I let my little brother down like that?”

He did not wait for her to answer, but quickly spurred his horse and rode on into a horizon not holding his sister.

* * *

The journey to bring them back much differed from their escape. The sores on her legs and feet from riding and walking and riding had long healed. Her skin, usually so light among the  Dornish , had darkened to a deeper hue, and the clothes she wore  were in need of a good cleaning and unfit for a lady or a sorceress of her rank. She liked it.

She missed the free reign over her magic, but she was able to keep up with Brandon even without it. Elia’s company she sorely missed, but there was comfort in solitude as well. To find a silence that did not ask anything of her had been an unexpected gift.

They took care to avoid inns they had previously frequented. It was more difficult now, with people flooding south. There were nights they had to sleep outside, but a lodging place was prepared for them at least every other night.

On rare occasions they each got to take a bath. A strange sort of torture, having her only ally just out of reach, putting the prince of  their realm to shame.

Ashara drew up her legs and put her chin on her knees. “Whom do we save once we get to King’s Landing?” she asked. Brandon had his eyes closed as he always did in the tub.

“Those that are left,” he said. “Those that you wish to save, my lady.”

She scraped over her tongue with her teeth.  _ Whom I wish to save. How do I know? How do I ensure that it is not just selfish desires that fuel me?  _ Tilting her head, she took him in, the top of his hair to the hollow of his throat. __ “What will you do then? After?”

One eye opened. “I’ll protect what’s left of my family.”

“In the North.”

His head fell back against the side of the tub. “In the North, in the Red Keep, it makes no matter. They likely think I’m dead, but I’m made to work from the shadows.”

“If I save Elia or the queen or her children, and the Rebellion still wins, I’ll have to take them somewhere,” said  Ashara . Her tongue made a clucking sound when after she’d pressed it to the back of her teeth. Magic was anxiously churning in her stomach. “We won’t see each other again.”

“Aye.” He opened his eyes. Golden.  _ Unnatural,  _ she thought.  _ And beautiful. They belong to him, and what’s so unnatural about that? _

She averted her eyes when he pushed himself out of the bath. They’d perfected the art of quick clothing around each other.

He cleared his throat just above her, closer than she’d thought. “You are a good companion, my lady,” he said.

“As are you,” she allowed. “I think I may grow to miss you, Witcher.”

“I hope so,” he said, and leaned down to kiss her.

She unfolded out of her crouch,  rose up and around him. Her hands linked into one another behind his neck.

In the wild of the Stormlands, stars and wolves collide.

* * *

King’s Landing was burning.

They learned of the death of their king, their prince, their  _ princess  _ and her children from a messenger. He’d worn Lannister colors, but  Ashara had not cared.

Brandon let the boy go and he ran in the direction he’d been sent, no knowledge of the way his words had sliced through her heart. Her magic was crawling, seething up within her, pushing to get out. In her fingertips, in her heart it burned. 

She thought of the way Brandon had  _ screamed  _ when his father had been turned to ash. She would not scream. 

Ashara looked up and up and up the walls of King’s Landing. Down and down and down the rows of encampments outside the Gates. She turned. 

She ran.

The forest beyond Blackwater Bay had never seemed so hopeless, she had but a second to notice. Then her heart stopped.

She was choking on the very air she breathed, clinging to one of the thinner trees. Her chest was heaving. It was like the smoke she’d inhaled when Rickard Stark had been set aflame was still clinging to her lungs, black and eternal.

_ Elia,  _ she thought,  _ forgive me. I couldn’t save you, nor your children. _

_ Oh, the children. _

Elia would have never forgiven that. __

“My lady!”  _ No,  _ she wanted to say,  _ leave me. I failed. I failed.  _ But she could not speak.

Brandon didn’t touch her at first, not until she let go of rough bark resin to cling to his arm. He brushed aside the hair that had freed itself from her braids. 

“I wasn’t there.” She doubled over and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her. His hands spanned wide across her ribs. The only thing that was warm in the world. “She needed  me and I wasn’t there.”

“I know,” he said. He took her up, raised her, and held her at his chest as if she was a child to be soothed. “I know, but we have to go.”

“Where?” she sobbed. “Where would I go?”

“With me.” There was no pause or jesting tone. He’d made up his mind. “You’re going with me. Come.”

She stumbled as she  walked, and flexed her hands. He didn’t, nor did he speak a  word. He only held her, at her hips, at her elbow, one step and another away from a scene they would only disturb more.

Finally her sobs abated and her heart slowed to a dull, hollow rhythm. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, even though it did not matter.

“Away, first. Out of the forest to the west.”

She nodded. He could have told her he was bringing her to the Keep  to put her head on a spike and she would have come with him. It did not matter. 

She did not.

All she had done to keep people safe, had been in vain.

Brandon took her around the waist to lift her over one of the treacherous roots sticking up from the ground.

“What about Lyanna?” she had the sense to ask at last. “You need to go protect your family.”

“I’m not leaving your side. As you did not leave mine.”

She sobbed when she laughed. “I needed you to protect me.”

“I need you.” His face was the first clear thing in hours that had felt like years. “Perhaps not to protect me, but I need you.”

Looking up at him she remembered a very different man at a very different place asking her to dance with his brother. “I think I am a broken thing now,” she said.

He still had his arms wrapped around her and they had stopped moving.  Ashara was grateful for it. The exhaustion of grief had set in, making her dizzy from the tears she’d shed.

“Everybody is,” he told her.

Awfully, she laughed again. She would not scream, but she was laughing.  _ Smiling eyes,  _ she had once heard said about her,  _ not screaming. Smiling.  _ What else was she supposed to do?

“Out of the forest?” she asked.

“As a first,” he said. “Yes.”

Something cracked behind them. She was too tired, yet the magic sang within her. Brandon whirled her around, kept her at his back, familiar but strange on this day through her hazy mind.

Curious, round, brown eyes looked out between the leaves. Young eyes. Eyes from another lifetime. Eyes that were scared.

Brandon lowered his sword just as  Ashara nudged him to the side.

With the sounds of a war won behind them, she knelt on the soft ground of the forest. And smiled.

A Witcher behind her to keep them safe, she spread her arms for  Rhaenys Targaryen, the last of her line, to hold on to her.


End file.
